Dean
by Lif61
Summary: Lucifer uses his powers to make Sam think Dean is the one hurting him in the Cage.


**A/N: This wonderfully horrible idea was given to me by a friend, and a few details were their ideas as well. So usually I like keeping things pretty canon compliant, and to me this falls out of that because I don't think Lucifer actually did pretend to be Dean in the Cage or make Sam think he was with Dean. If he had we would've seen Sam being terrified of Dean, and that just wasn't the case. But still, it's fanfiction, and this was fun to write.**

 **TRIGGER WARNINGS: Rape/Non-con**

* * *

Hot knives were stabbed into Sam's body, the wounds cauterizing just as soon as they were made. Needles were inserted under his fingernails, pressing deep into him until they scraped against bone. Cold fingers trailed over his skin, freezing and blackening his flesh with a mere touch. Darkness took him.

Sam woke up screaming.

He was confused when he opened his eyes and saw a motel room. He didn't recognize it, didn't know how he'd gotten there. Then he remembered, he wasn't actually in a motel room. He was in the Cage. But still, the bed he lay in with its dark red-orange comforter and white sheets seemed real, as did the bed next to his, which had been left unmade, suggesting it'd been slept in.

 _Dean._

The bathroom door, which was across from his bed, opened, and Dean stepped out, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt with a red flannel shirt unbuttoned over it, the sleeves rolled up and showing his forearms.

"You okay?" he asked him.

Sam sat up in surprise at seeing him. It looked like Dean, sounded like him, but...

 _No, no. That's not Dean. It can't be._

"Lucifer, stop this."

He knew Lucifer never listened to him when he told him to stop - no, _begged_ him to stop - but he figured if he let him know he was onto him then he would. Instead "Dean" just gave a nervous laugh, and asked incredulously, "Lucifer? What the hell are you talking about? It's just me."

"Dean" came over to him, and Sam tried pushing himself away, but just hit his back against the headboard.

"No. Stop pretending to be Dean."

"I'm not _pretending_. It's me, your brother."

Sam just shook his head.

"Hey, are you okay? This isn't like you. Is this because of the nightmares? It seemed like you were having nightmares."

Sam frowned, looking around him. The motel room _looked_ real, _Dean_ looked real, but it all felt off. Dean was acting like himself, sounded like himself. But… He'd been getting tortured. He was sure of it.

When Sam didn't answer Dean sighed and sat down on the bed with him. "I know I'm not good with feelings and all that, but you can talk to me about them, you know."

A defeated breath left Sam and he ran a hand through his hair. "I… I was in the Cage, with Lucifer. He was…" Sam wasn't sure he could tell his brother _all_ that Lucifer had done to him, knew that Dean might never understand, so he simply finished with, "He was torturing me. Part of me thinks I'm still there."

"Well, you're not. You're here with me and I plan on keeping it that way, you hear me?"

Sam nodded, not meeting his brother's eyes. Maybe he really wasn't in the Cage. It did make sense that he'd had nightmares, maybe about the future. He shivered.

"Look, Sam, I know that Lucifer wants you and that terrifies you, but it's not the end of the world yet. We can still find a way to beat him. And come on, I already know you won't say yes to that son of a bitch. I mean, who _would_?"

At Dean's words, he looked to him in confusion. Though he was trying to rationalize what was going on, it had felt so real. He _had_ said yes, and he'd thrown himself and Lucifer into the Cage. Hadn't he? He'd been torturing him since then, violating him. Could it all have been a dream?

"But… I thought I did say yes. In Detroit."

"Sammy, you must've been having a nightmare. You were tossing and turning all night."

He didn't _remember_ going to bed, didn't even remember the motel room, or where they were. This had to be one of Lucifer's tricks. It had to be.

"That's not right," he said. "This, this isn't real."

Dean grabbed his face, his hands rough like they'd always been. "Hey, look at me. This _is_ real. I know you don't want it to be. Hell, I don't want it to be either. But we have each other. It's gonna be okay."

At those words, Sam gave in. Dean. He could trust Dean.

"But what if it's not?" he asked. "What if my dream was a premonition, like the ones I used to get?"

Dean slowly pulled his hands back at that. "Well you haven't been drinking demon blood, have you?" Sam shot him a glare, and Dean held his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Okay, okay. Just asking."

"Even if I'm not drinking it, it's still in me, Dean, this darkness. I can feel it."

And he _could_ feel it, a heavy black cloud over his heart, pumping through his blood and twining through his body and soul. It was miniscule right now, but it was still _there_.

Sam did his best to ignore it like he'd been doing a lot of lately and looked around the room again, studying the scuffed wooden floor, the chipped paint of the dark red walls. God, the motel room was hideous. There weren't any designs that hurt his eyes, but there was just way too much red. Then again, they'd stayed in worse. But he couldn't remember coming in last night.

Knowing Dean wouldn't want to discuss his issue with demon blood further, Sam changed the subject, "How did I get back last night? I don't remember-"

"Yeah, you wouldn't've. That witch we were after sent a pretty nasty spell your way."

"A witch?"

Dean frowned in worry. "Yeah, we caught up to her in a bar, remember?" Sam just shook his head, and Dean continued, "She spotted us, went out the back, we followed her, and then she hit you with that spell. It knocked you out, and I had to carry you back here, which was so not easy. But, the bar, you don't remember any of that?"

Sam tried searching his mind for anything that Dean had spoken of. But it wasn't there. It just wasn't. Maybe he really had been hit with a spell. It did make sense.

"No, nothing."

Dean shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, man. I would've gone after her, but I had to take care of you. Do you remember anything about this case, about the two widows that died?"

As soon as he said it, that did come back to him. Two women whose husbands had recently been killed had been found dead within the same week. They'd been sisters, and they'd had a best friend whose husband they'd both slept with. Things started clicking into place a little in Sam's head.

"Yeah, yeah. But their husbands - what if the witch killed them too?"

"Sam, we went over this yesterday. We figured out she did, remember?"

"Oh. Um… Right."

Though he'd agreed he really couldn't remember, but at least he could remember some things. Maybe the spell wasn't permanent. And maybe it'd given him the nightmares too. They'd been so real and horrific. Too real. But he figured a witch could mess with his head like that, could take his fears and make them seem like a reality.

He was drawn from his thoughts when his brother started stroking a hand through his hair, the gesture strangely intimate.

"What are you doing?" Sam questioned quietly, not looking at him. With his nightmares still fresh in his mind he wasn't sure he had the strength to turn down comfort like this, even if it did make him slightly uneasy.

 _Don't be an idiot,_ he told himself. _It's just Dean._

"Trying to comfort you," he let out in a slightly exasperated tone. "Now hush."

Sam turned and grabbed his wrist, shoving him lightly away from him.

"I'm not a little kid anymore."

Dean blushed, looking down to avoid his gaze. "I wasn't exactly thinking of it like that."

Sam's stomach clenched. "Then what?"

His brother took in a deep breath, moving closer till their legs were touching. It was almost like there was this weird energy coming off of Dean. It was weird from him anyway, not something he'd expect from his brother.

Dean eyed him, his gaze hungry, and the hair on the back of Sam's neck rose.

He tried telling himself to calm down, that it was just his brother, that he wouldn't hurt him. But with Lucifer's chilling gaze fresh in his mind, those thoughts were meaningless.

When he spoke his voice was lowered, "Sammy, I think you know."

He caressed his cheek, and Sam, having been used to his brother holding his face in his hands many times, leaned into it, before he suddenly stilled, his eyes going wide. He couldn't mean…

"I know I've hurt you, locked you up, but I care. I do. And all these years, I've been watching you, thinking about you in ways I never should have. Whenever I tried getting you with a girl it was because I could barely keep my hands off you, and I knew what I wanted was wrong. I'd get jealous, but imagining you with them was all I needed sometimes to get me hard. And dear god, Ruby - I hated that bitch. I loved driving that knife into her because now, now I get to have you all to myself."

Sam was unable to do anything as Dean came forward and kissed him. His words had sent an uncomfortable heat through him, and he felt sick to his stomach. He'd had a feeling that Dean was attracted to men as well as women, but _this_? _He_ was the object of Dean's desire? It just couldn't be real. But Dean's warm and soft lips against his certainly felt real. He knew those lips, not quite like this, but he'd seen them often enough to recognize the shape of them, to recognize that they were in fact pressed firmly against his own.

Sam pulled back in surprise, fear scratching its way down his spine.

He wanted to say something, to ask him what the hell he was doing, but he found that words didn't want to come to him as Dean leaned his head down and started kissing his neck, one hand curling in his hair and the other going to his knee.

He paused, his lips brushing against his skin as he spoke in a husky voice, "All those times I came in right after you got out of the shower, it was intentional. I wanted to see you in just a towel. And dear god, it took everything in me to not rip it off of you."

His lips had been trailing lower as he spoke and now his mouth was at his collarbone, and his hand had been traveling higher, up to his thigh and now it nearly rested in between his legs. Sam grabbed his shoulders, shoving him away. His skin crawled from what Dean had admitted, from how he'd touched him. But… that couldn't be right, could it? That _had_ happened occasionally, Dean nearly walking in on him after he got out of the shower, and it wasn't like Dean was pulling this stuff out of thin air. He really had gotten adamant at times about Sam getting laid. His reason for it could add up. Maybe he really did feel that way about him.

But Sam didn't. He didn't even like men in that way. He could recognize that his brother was attractive, but that was as far as that went. He just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that with Dean it went further than that.

"Dean, you're being ridiculous," Sam eventually said, not sure what else he could say. He wanted to yell at him, to ask him why. But he couldn't do that. He was his brother.

"Am I, Sammy? Please, just tell me you want me." There was a strange yearning in his brother's green eyes, vulnerability that he'd only seen when Dean was admitting how he truly felt about something.

Oh god, he was being serious.

"I don't," Sam told him simply, hoping that would be the end of it.

He pushed the covers back and started getting up, thinking it'd be best for him to just start his day, but then Dean hooked his leg under his, making Sam lose his balance, and his brother's hands were on him, shoving him down onto the bed. Sam reacted instantly, wrapping his legs around him and using his weight to get on top. Dean grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, lifting himself up to have his mouth go to his exposed neck, his other hand snaking around his back to hold him to him. A desperate cry left Sam, and for a second, he leaned his head back even more, his neck hurting from it. That threw Dean off, made him lessen his grip, and Sam whacked his arm aside. He tried rolling off of him, not caring if he landed on the hard floor, but Dean had a tight grip on his waist. He could always punch him in the face until he was senseless, but he wasn't about to do that to his own brother. His heart was beating quickly from the short struggle, adrenaline pumping through him and heightening his senses.

"Let go of me," he hissed.

"Make me," Dean challenged, a cocky grin on his face.

"I _really_ don't want to do this."

"Do what? Fight me?" His tone lowered as he went on, his pupils wide with lust, "Fuck me?"

Sam attempted to get up, but in their current position that made his hips press against Dean's, and of all things, his brother pressed up into him, a groan leaving him.

He still kept trying to get free, and he finally succeeded, tumbling unceremoniously onto the floor. Before he could get up, Dean was on him, straddling him, his hands lifting his white t-shirt up.

"Dean!"

"Sh… It's okay. Everything's okay. Just let me take care of you."

His body went limp, forgetting about fighting, when Dean's mouth found his right nipple. He sucked it into a hardened nub, and as heat began to work its way through him, particularly down in between his legs, Sam's mind started to go blank. It was Dean. He'd be okay. He didn't want this, but his brother did. For him. He'd do this for him, give his body to him if that's what would make him happy. Besides, what was the point in fighting? He felt like that's all he'd been doing with Dean lately.

Dean flicked his nipple with his tongue, sending a jolt of electricity through his body, and then he gave his other nipple the same treatment.

"There ya go, Sammy," he murmured. "There ya go. You're gonna be just fine."

His hands went low on him, just to his hips, he traced the grooves of them a few times, making Sam's skin tingle at the same time his stomach knotted. He then felt his way up over his abdomen, seemingly admiring the little dips and contours of his muscles, and then over his chest where he spread his palm flat against his anti-possession tattoo.

"Let's get your shirt off," Dean said.

And Sam let him help him up, didn't even have it in him to fight. He wasn't even sure if he currently knew how to fight. It was somewhere in him, it had to be, but he couldn't find it. His instincts had failed him.

He _let_ Dean take his shirt off. In fact, he helped him.

Sam hated himself for it.

He didn't want this, but he was cooperating. He just had to. He had to let his brother be happy, and Sam didn't think he himself mattered enough anyway for what was really happening to be a problem. Who cared that he didn't want it? So what? Dean wouldn't be the first person to do this to him. Not really. He remembered trying to deny Ruby his body and that hadn't worked, so he'd let it happen, and had tried taking control. But he still remembered the smile on her face afterwards, like she'd won some kind of prize.

His mind wandered, trying to be anywhere but there. His nightmares flashed through his head: cold skin, fiery pleasure, two voices mixing together, one speaking of ecstasy, the other of despair. Sam's breath hitched, and then reality came back to him when Dean ran a hand through his hair.

 _Dean. It's just Dean._

He'd take Dean over his nightmares any day. Right now, maybe this was the lesser of two evils. His brother wouldn't hurt him. He just wouldn't.

That didn't mean Sam understood it.

Dean pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth, which Sam supposed was better than actually kissing him. His stomach churned with disgust while his head whirled with confusion. He dragged his mouth lower and then swiped his tongue across his clenched jaw.

"Relax," Dean whispered. "It's okay. I gotcha."

 _That's the problem._

Sam wanted to tell him that, but words wouldn't come to him.

Dean pulled back and caressed his face, his thumbs gently brushing against his cheekbones. It was yet another gesture that Sam was used to, except now his touch was lingering much too long. There was fondness in Dean's eyes, somewhere amongst all the lust. It was odd to see such a normal emotion amongst something that didn't make sense.

Dean got off of him, and then helped him up as he said, "Up, on your feet." When Sam was standing Dean ordered in a gentle voice, "Stay just like that."

He got on his knees, his hands at his hips again. His warm fingers dipped below the waistbands of his sweatpants and boxers, and then he was tugging them down.

The word _stop_ lay heavy on Sam's tongue, his mouth open to say it, but only a pleased hiss left him when Dean brought one hand around to knead his ass. His brother had strong hands, and he could feel it in the way he touched him. His sweatpants and boxers pooled at his feet once Dean had gotten them low enough, and now he was feeling over his ass with both hands, an approving growl leaving him. That excited his body, and he felt the familiar pressure of growing erect.

"God, you're firm," Dean commented in a low voice, ignoring his cock for now.

"Dean…"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"S-stop."

His hands traveled lower, to the backs of his thighs, pulling him a little closer, and he tilted his head up to look at him.

"Hey, it's okay," he attempted to soothe, trailing his hand up to his ass again, reaching higher, to his lower back. "It's okay. I'm just taking care of you."

Sam felt incapable of arguing with that, so he didn't say anything else as he let Dean go back to touching him, his hands coming around to nearly touch his cock. Sam wanted to tell him to stop again, was surprised he'd even gotten it out in the first place. But what did it matter? His brother wanted this, wanted him, and Sam thought, he deserved to be happy.

So he let Dean grab him and push him back down on the bed, his mouth and hands growing more curious, exploring him with a fervor that eerily reminded him of his nightmares. Sam felt so vulnerable, so powerless, and the fact that Dean was still clothed added to that. God, what was _happening_? Though he was trying to rationalize it, he couldn't make sense of any of it. Though he'd been thinking he wanted Dean to be happy, he couldn't find the real reason he wasn't fighting back. It was almost like his body had stopped listening to him. He'd grown hard against his will, was being compliant against his will, was feeling pleasure against his will. And Dean, Dean was touching him against his will.

No, no he wasn't. That couldn't be what was happening. It just couldn't be. Sam must've wanted this. Surely that was the only explanation. It had to be. It _had_ to be. But then why did it hurt so much?

Sam gasped when Dean stroked the flat of his palm over his cock, making it harden even more. Arousal ran thickly through him, the unwanted desire making him more malleable, meaning that as Dean stroked him, he leaned into his touch without a thought.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Dean asked.

Sam wasn't sure why, but he nodded.

Then Dean began to pump him in earnest, the other hand caught in his hair and holding him down. He set his gaze on his cock, his tongue coming out to hungrily lick his bottom lip.

"Fuck, you're so huge," Dean murmured. "I have half a mind to get you to screw me. But maybe later. I want to see just how much you can take first."

Dean's words terrified him, yet his body quivered in excitement. He hated that he was terrified. His body clearly wasn't. Surely it knew what was right.

 _I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it. I have to want it. I have to! That's the only thing that makes sense. Dean would never..._

His thoughts were sharply interrupted when Dean curiously licked a trail over the big vein on the underside of him. Before Sam could even cry out, the head of his cock was in his brother's mouth.

Sam cried out in surprise, unintentionally arching into him. Dean's other hand left his hair, and he scratched his way down his body, making Sam twitch in his hot mouth. And it felt good, so very good, but each second Dean's touch lingered darkened the shadow looming over his soul. He could feel it, that pain, within him. It was just as real as the tingling, electrifying pleasure.

As he took more of him in, he moaned blissfully, the vibrations sending a flare of heat all the way up to his stomach. He felt light-headed when Dean ran his fingers through his pubic hair and then pulled, as if he was trying to get him even closer, to have more of him in his mouth. And he did get more of him in his mouth. A lot more. Sam started to question if his brother even had a damn gag reflex.

In a few seconds he learned that he did, a muffled gagging sound leaving him as his throat convulsed around his cock. Some cruel part of Sam wanted to thrust further into him, make him choke. But he couldn't do that. He couldn't do anything. His muscles refused to work, and he lay still as Dean relaxed his throat and very slowly began taking him in further. Sam had his eyes squeezed shut, clenching his jaw against moans that wanted to tumble loose as more of him became encased in his brother's mouth, reaching into his throat. And then he felt Dean's nose against his pelvis, buried in his pubic hair, his gentle exhales wafting over him. Sam opened his eyes and looked down to see if what he felt was true. And Dean's gaze met him, hungry and untamable.

Sam gripped the bedsheets, his breaths coming in gasps, his chest heaving. He just about lost it when his brother began to suck, both of his hands now making their way to his hips to hold him down. He threw his head back, his eyes squeezing shut once more, but he didn't forget the terrifying way Dean had looked at him. Sam wanted to thrust into his mouth, and he wanted to writhe out of his grip, but all he could do was tremble as Dean began to slowly bob his head up and down.

"Dean, this isn't right," he got out, surprised by the rough timbre of his voice.

Dean didn't answer, just let out a long moan that made his toes curl. A growl left Sam and then he nearly started whining. He didn't want to be touched like this anymore, but his body didn't agree. Maybe that meant that he did desire this. Sam didn't know anymore. All he knew was that his body wanted more, so much more. It wasn't satisfied, even with the extraordinarily talented things Dean could do with his mouth. He ran his tongue from side to side as he bobbed his head, sending fiery tingles through him, making him burn.

Words, words wanted to come to him, but before they could form, the letters fell apart, down into darkness. All he could do was moan, falling prey to the pleasure singing through his nerves, setting his cock alight.

Dean eventually pulled him from his mouth, and the air felt cold compared to him. Sam found him missing him. Dean pumped him and Sam groaned from the sensation, accidently thrusting up into him.

"How's that feel?" Dean asked.

Sam couldn't answer him, and instead tensed his muscles to keep from bucking up into his hand anymore. Dean ran his free hand along his body, his rough skin sending tingles through him.

"Hey, it's okay. Just relax. I gotcha. I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you."

The irony of his words pierced Sam like a spear, pain blooming in his chest and spreading outward. But the pleasure soon overcame him and his mouth dropped open as his muscles relaxed, arching into Dean's touch.

"There we go. There we go, Sammy."

He tweaked each of his nipples in kind, the action sending little jerks down his body into his incredibly hard and heavy cock, making him gasp with each one. Then Dean was running his hand down his side, over his hip, and down to his thigh, his thumb massaging the inner part. He let go of his cock, and Sam missed the feeling of his strong hand on him, pumping him with confidence. Now he was pushing his thighs open, this new sense of vulnerability making Sam's stomach quiver.

"You trust me, right?" Dean asked.

 _No._

"Yeah."

His brother's curious tongue was then on his balls and Sam couldn't think properly. His cock twitched and throbbed, as if it was begging for that same sensation, but Dean kept his hands at his thighs, holding them open. Sam didn't even know how to try and close them. He could feel himself somehow filling and swelling even more from this attention, and next thing he knew he was grasping Dean's head with one hand, the other snaking around his wrist.

He sucked him and kissed him, and then shrugged off Sam's grip as he pulled back slightly. Sam frowned in confusion, his hands already going back to grasp the bedsheets. And then his brother's hands were underneath him, on his ass, and moving lower, lifting his legs up and apart.

Panic flooded Sam and he wasn't too sure why. It was enough to make his erection start going away. He lowered his legs, wrapping them around Dean's shoulders, and twisted his body, effectively throwing his brother to the floor. He ended up on the floor as well, but he was prepared, bracing himself on his forearms. He scrambled up, and Dean grabbed his ankle, dragging him back down. Sam grunted from the impact, the wood grazing his elbows, the pain sharp and stinging. He kicked out, not turning to see where he'd hit his brother. When his grip didn't lessen he kicked him again. Dean's hand left him.

Sam got to his feet, jumped over his bed so it'd be between himself and Dean, and then backed himself against the wall, his breaths coming too quickly.

 _Oh god, what's happening?_

Sam didn't know. He was naked, and his brother had been the one to take his clothes off. His brother had been touching him even though he'd told him to stop.

Dean let out a grunt and picked himself up, eyeing Sam, his gaze still hot.

"What? You think that's gonna deter me?" he asked. "I know you, Sammy. I know I can win, and I know I'll get what I want."

With each word he came closer and Sam pressed himself up against the wall even more, desperately wishing he could just walk through it, desperately wishing he wasn't so naked and vulnerable. Blood from the scrapes on his elbows slowly trickled down his forearms.

Dean was against him now, his own erection straining against his pants. Though he was a few inches shorter him he somehow looked at Sam in a way that made him feel small, like he was trapped and being looked down to. He placed a hand on either side of Sam's head, and seeing his muscled forearms in his peripheral vision really didn't help lessen his sense of helplessness, and neither did the way his flannel shirt hugged his biceps and shoulders.

His voice was low, quiet, as he said, "And I know that you want it, too."

"Dean, I-"

He'd planned on finishing that sentence, saying that he didn't want it, but Dean's mouth was at the hollow of his throat, his teeth nipping and pulling at his sensitive skin. A surprised moan left Sam, and he tilted his head back without thinking. God, he felt like he was going to be sick; his body heating up, his head whirling.

Dean kissed a trail up his neck, pausing to suck on his adam's apple, and then he was gnawing on his chin, the pain nearly enough to make Sam hard again. He pressed his hips up against him, slowly grinding himself against his thigh as he groaned. All Sam could do was breathe heavily and wait for whatever it was his brother had planned next.

It wasn't long before he found out what that was because his lips were parted slightly, hovering near his as he stood on his tiptoes to reach him. And then his tongue, the tongue that Sam now knew was extraordinarily talented, came out to lick his bottom lip. He inhaled sharply, and then Dean was kissing him. Sam didn't kiss back, refused to. But Dean tried. He gave it everything he had. He even moaned like he was trying to entice him, and it'd probably work on anyone else. He figured most people would have thrown Dean on the bed by now to have their way with him. But Sam just stood there.

He gasped when Dean finally pulled away. His brother ran a finger over his lips, and Sam wanted to flinch, to wrench himself back, but he couldn't move.

"Come on, Sammy. I know you want it."

He stared at him with wide eyes.

His other hand went to his cock at precisely the same time he gripped his jaw and held him against the wall. Sam groaned as he felt himself filling up again, arousal flooding his blood, trying to chase away the sick feeling in his stomach.

"I know how badly you crave sex sometimes. I can see it in your eyes, in the way you move, like you're some kind of predator. Well, today, little brother, I'm your predator. Now say you want me. I want to hear it."

His knees felt weak from Dean's words, his body tingling and excited. But his heart hurt.

Sam said nothing.

Dean squeezed him, _hard_ , and it felt beyond good.

"Say you want me," he told him again.

Now Dean was tugging fiercely, as if he was trying to pull his orgasm from him before he could realize what was happening. Sam's mouth dropped open, a moan leaving him.

"I… I…"

He squeezed his eyes shut and Dean shook his head a little.

"Eyes on me," he growled out.

Sam's eyes popped open as he quickly got out, "I want you. I want you. I want you…" And then it was like he couldn't stop saying it. The words tumbled from his lips in stuttering exhales until Dean pressed his mouth to his.

This time Sam kissed back.

He couldn't help it. he was simply burning, and he wanted more. Dean's mouth was hot and wet against his, his lips soft and strong. The kiss was abrasive, and his brother even got his teeth involved. He bit and sucked at him till he was swollen and his bottom lip was bleeding.

Sam wasn't sure why, but when Dean pulled away, both his hands going down to caress his thighs, he said it again, "I want you."

"I know. Now get on the bed."

He grabbed Sam, turned and shoved him towards the bed. He stumbled and then paused, looking down at it. He couldn't. He just couldn't.

Dean came up behind him, one hand gripping his ass before he spanked him. The painful jolt went to his cock as pleasure.

"Get on the bed. I won't say it again," Dean warned.

Sam did as he said, his feet moving forward of their own accord, his mind in a bleary haze.

As he started climbing onto the bed, his brother ordered, "Face the wall. I want you on your hands and knees."

Sam complied while some part of his mind screamed at him not to.

Dean slowly walked around him, his footsteps loud. Each thump quicked Sam's heartbeat till he was sure his heart would burst out of his ribcage. He jumped when he felt his rough, yet achingly familiar, hands on his ass, kneading him.

"Can't believe you've got such a gorgeous ass," Dean praised. "Oh god, I fucking want it."

Sam swallowed roughly, his elbows wobbling a little. Dean ran a hand up his back and pressed down. Sam got the hint and lowered himself to his grazed elbows, his ass stuck invitingly in the air. Dean spanked him, and then his mouth was on him where his skin stung and burned. He kissed and sucked and Sam began to feel light-headed, his cock hard, nearly painfully so.

He wanted to pump himself, wanted to cum and be done with all of this. But he figured Dean wasn't about to let that happen. He bit him, making Sam arch sharply away, his voice leaving him in a startled shout, and his brother laughed before doing the same to his other cheek. Sam cried out a second time before clamping his mouth shut, his cheeks heating with shame. He was used to pain, knew how to deal with it, so why had that startled him so much?

Dean grabbed his hips, pulling him towards him again, and then his tongue was in between the cheeks of his ass, going lower, as if he was searching for something. Startling tingles made their way through him when Dean's tongue found his rim. His stomach clenched with an awful mix of desire and disgust as he continued to lick him there, his tongue eager and curious.

His hands were on his ass, spreading him open, and his lips were against him.

He pulled away, but his breath wafted over his sensitive flesh as he breathed, "Come on, Sammy, I wanna hear you."

His tongue was at his rim again, circling and teasing. It was something Sam had never felt before, and he found these new sensations confusing.

Dean dug his nails in, and that's what made Sam grunt, made his voice leave him like Dean wanted. He did that till Sam was so sensitive he was practically whining from each delicious swipe of his tongue, and then he kept going, one hand pumping his cock a few times before trailing up his body.

As he moaned, two of Dean's fingers breached his lips where they stroked across his tongue. He coughed in surprise, pulling away.

Dean's tongue left him and he soothed. "Hey, it's okay. I just l wanna make you feel good, so you gotta suck, okay?"

Sam didn't know why, but he opened his mouth, reaching out for Dean's fingers.

As he began to suck his brother said, "Get 'em nice and wet."

This time when he brought his tongue to him, he pushed into him. The feeling was so odd Sam found himself nearly biting down on his fingers as he cried out in surprise. It made heat travel up into his balls and through his cock, and up his pelvis before going to his stomach. His head swam and he nearly collapsed, his cock throbbing desperately.

When Dean deemed his fingers were wet enough he pulled them from his mouth, Sam gasping even though he could breathe just fine. He withdrew his tongue, and then his index finger was rubbing at his rim.

"Gotta stay relaxed for me, okay?"

Sam nodded, and forced his muscles, which were coiled tight with apprehension, to ease into what he hoped was some state of relaxation. He figured maybe he could relax even more if he wasn't in this situation, but now, he simply didn't know how to.

His slick finger breached the tight ring of muscle and it felt odd. He began to move his finger in and out, the thumb on his other hand massaging his perineum, making his legs tremble. He pushed all the way down to the last knuckle, this invasion of his body burning. Oh god. Sam knew what Dean wanted with him, and he wasn't sure how he was going to be able to handle it. But he knew that he didn't have a say in the matter.

He pulled his finger out and now he felt two fingers pressing at him before pushing in. Dean went slowly as he placed his fingers in him, and he whispered for Sam to relax. He started kissing his left cheek, maybe hoping that would soothe him.

The pain was surprisingly doing the opposite of making his erection go away, instead it seemed to be strengthening it, which made Sam beyond confused. He was lost in a haze of want, nearly moaning as Dean opened him up.

His brother left him, telling him to stay just as he was, and then he was shuffling around in one of his bags. He found what he was looking for, and came back over., Sam heard the snap of a cap being opened, and then he could feel something dripping on him. At least he was using lube, he supposed. Though, he figured this would hurt anyway. He didn't understand how it wouldn't.

His brother's warm fingers were working at him again, and this time it didn't hurt. It just felt uncomfortable.

Sam grunted, and then managed to get his mouth to work enough to comment, "Seems like you've… done this before."

"Yeah, a couple times."

And then there was a third finger in him and it hurt again; Sam just wasn't used to any of this. How could someone put up with it? That question was obliterated from his head when his brother's fingers went deeper and he moved them around in him like he was looking for something. And he must've found it because a jolt of pleasure rushed through Sam, into his cock, his stomach, and up through his spine. It left him breathless and wanting more. And he got it.

"You like that?" Dean asked, seeming pleased with himself.

Sam's cock started spitting precum and he couldn't keep his voice in him anymore.

He didn't know how long Dean kept that up for, but the irrational part of him that only sought pleasure never wanted it to end. His body was making him forget all about how wrong this was, how he didn't want it, how it pained him. That was all locked away, and all he wanted was this, and to make Dean happy. He had to do what his brother told him, especially since he hadn't recently, and that's why the world was ending.

Before he could suppress it, a whine left him when Dean's fingers were no longer pleasuring him.

"Want it that bad, huh?"

Sam could only pant as he was denied more pleasure.

He heard Dean undo his zipper and then he felt him, hard and fleshy, pressing against his ass.

"You're gonna get it alright. And don't think that I'm gonna hold back just 'cause you're my brother." With one hand he began caressing his hip, and he continued, "I'm gonna fuck you till you can't walk and then some."

Sam's body trembled with poisonous desire, and then Dean was moaning; he must've been putting lube on himself. He started trying to take deep breaths. He could do this. He could do this. He _would_ do this.

 _For Dean, for Dean, for Dean, for Dean, for Dean…_

He started pushing into him, and it burned. His brother was massive. Sam instantly tensed, groaning, and Dean kept pushing, just a little. He started rubbing his hips and his back gently.

"Sh… sh… It's okay. Forget what I said, alright? We're gonna start slow."

"T-then… _stop_ ," Sam got out through gritted teeth.

 _Please stop._

Already his erection was going away, and his body was forgetting about wanting this.

Dean ignored him, and kept pushing.

"Just relax," he soothed. "Open up for me. I want to make you feel good. Just please, let me do my job. Let me take care of you."

It was those last words that made Sam give in, that made his body give in. His muscles relaxed instantly, as if someone had pressed a button. It still hurt with Dean stretching him, and then, the head of his fat cock was all the way in. His stomach quivered, worry taking over part of his brain. If it hurt having just the head in him, how was he going to get the rest of him in?

Dean started gently thrusting, grunting as he did so, and Sam had to brace himself to stay in place and not pull away.

"See?" his brother growled out. "Just like that. Good boy, Sammy."

The praising was odd. Hearing it like that from Dean wasn't really something he was used to. For a second it reminded him of his nightmares. Phantom pain took hold of his body, and it mixed with pleasure. He nearly fell, but Dean held him up, his hands on his hips.

A cry left him, and Dean's voice brought him back from the darkness and fear of what was to come: "You're okay. You're okay. You're doing just fine."

Sam heaved out a breath, and then let out a low moan when Dean thrusted into him, deeper this time.

"There we go. None of those stupid nightmares. Just me."

Sam found it odd that Dean mentioned the nightmares, but at the same time he was glad his brother knew what he was suffering from.

A primal growl left Dean and then he was thrusting deeper than he had before, and this time he didn't pull back out to slowly work on opening Sam up. He just kept going deeper and deeper, so deep it was terrifying. He burned inside, somehow already aching. But he'd hit that wonderful spot inside of him and Sam couldn't take it, a shudder running through him as he moaned long and loud into the air. And then Dean's hips were against him, his heavy balls nearly right up against his. Sam was breathing heavily, never having been stretched and filled like this before. It was unnerving and arousing at the same time, and now he really wanted Dean to rub against that spot inside him again.

Dean didn't ask him how he was doing this time, he didn't try to soothe him either. He just started thrusting again, hitting him deep each time, and always brushing against that spot. His movements grew harder and faster till it began to hurt even more, but Sam was beginning to be okay with it. Pleasure ran through him to his helplessly throbbing cock, and it traveled up his spine and down to his toes like a bolt of lightning. He'd never been so immersed in pleasure before, had never felt like his body was on fire with it. Almost always it'd just been his cock, but now it seemed to take over, to claim him.

Part of him was disturbed, horrified, pained, and his stomach seemed to still be trying to make sense of it all. His head couldn't catch up to what was happening. It couldn't rationalize that Dean was in him when he didn't want him to be. It was too busy _feeling_. Feeling the way Dean impaled him with his cock, his insides now slick with lube and precum, feeling the way his rough hands held him in place in a bruising grip, feeling the way his skin slapped against his, feeling the way he began to ache in such a beautiful way from his rough treatment, his cock now throbbing and twitching and begging for Dean's hand.

His brother just kept riding him, and hard, the bed shaking, the headboard smacking into the wall. Sam was too out of it to hope to god that no one was in the room next door. There was just that pounding, devouring pleasure.

One of Dean's hands ended up in his hair and then he was shoving his face down into the bed. Sam tried lifting himself up, this new position putting pressure on his nose that he really didn't like, but it was no use. Then, Dean was pulling out of him slowly, and Sam thought maybe he was going to start being gentle with him.

He was wrong.

Dean thrusted in so hard that it hurt, surely bruising the inside of him, and Sam could only let out a muffled cry. He did it again, causing his muscles to tense, his rim clutching tightly at his cock. It made Dean moan, his nails digging into his hip as he pulled out of him. Sam started praying that he wouldn't enter him like that again. He wasn't sure he could take it with how tense his body was.

Dean did it again, and Sam started struggling against him. The inside of him burned and ached and stung. He was sure he'd been torn inside. He wanted to beg for him to stop, but nearly being smothered with his face pressed into the bed, he couldn't do anything. His body trembled and shuddered helplessly, something Dean must've found hot because he thrusted into him like that one more time, and Sam started crying out again, unable to stop himself this time.

His brother yanked on his hair, lifting his head up, and then he picked up the pace again, not going nearly as hard as before. The hand that had been on his hip went to his cock, and soon his muscles were relaxing again, the pain inside of him lessening till it barely had his attention. He moaned through gritted teeth.

"You always… this loud?" Dean asked.

"N-n-no."

He wasn't, not usually, but before he'd never been so encompassed by thick, coursing pleasure and arousal. He'd had no idea it was possible to feel like this.

"Good. Only be this loud… for me. Fuck, you feel so good."

Dean went at him like that for a little longer before he pulled out of him. Sam was relieved, and was left trying to catch his breath, his body covered in a light sheen of sweat. But another part of him was still hungry. That part took over when Dean told him to get on his back and lift his legs up for him. This time when he was in him again he had a hand around his neck, squeezing just a little. And he'd told him to keep his eyes open.

The deep well of hunger in Dean's eyes made him shudder, and it was terrifying at the same time it was arousing. He'd only seen that much desire in his nightmares, right before…

No, couldn't think about that. None of that had come to pass yet. Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe he was afraid for no reason.

Dean's hand went up to his jaw, and then he leaned down and was kissing his mouth, which was already open as he moaned. His bottom lip stung from it, and he tried tilting his head back and away from him. It was all too much. He was overwhelmed. But Dean chased his mouth with his own, and he put one leg up on the bed to give himself more leverage as he fucked him. Sam couldn't win. Dean's tongue was in his mouth now and there was nothing he could do. His body didn't even know how to kiss back at the moment.

Part of him was thankful that Dean's clothes had stayed on. He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle having his brother's skin so intimately pressed against his. But at the same time it made him feel like the only vulnerable one, like Dean had immense power of him. He'd turned him into a moaning, trembling mess, so maybe he did.

Dean's tongue left his mouth, and his brother groaned as he sucked on his bottom lip.

"See, told you you wanted it," he gasped out. "You like being screwed like a bitch, Sammy? You like having me in you?"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, his body arching up into Dean's. This all felt too good, but he hated it. He hated it so much, yet there was nothing he could do about it.

"Come on, Sam. What did I… What did I say about you closing your eyes?"

"D-don't… do it," he got out.

"Exactly," he growled as he began to go at him harder, his grip on his jaw tightening.

Sam forced his eyes open, forced himself to look at Dean's face.

"Thatta boy, Sam."

He stayed like that, his body right up against his as he took him. It made Sam feel trapped, helpless, and all he could do was arch into him and cry out. But he refused to touch him, just kept a death grip on the sheets.

Immense, hot pressure began building in Sam, coiling through his gut, taking hold of his cock. He felt feverish, like he was heating up from the inside out.

"You're close, aren't you?" Dean asked.

Sam wasn't sure how he knew that, but he couldn't answer, could only cry out as he felt the pleasure thickening within his blood, singing through his nerves.

He couldn't help it this time when he squeezed his eyes shut, and Dean shook him, growling out in a frightening voice, "Eyes _open_. I want to see when you cum."

Then, for some reason that Sam couldn't discern, his eyes were open again. He… he hadn't done that. Why were his eyes open? Before it could confuse him too much, his orgasm took hold of him, his muscles tightening till it nearly hurt, the inside of him clenching around Dean. His voice left him in uneven exhales as pure, silvery pleasure ran up from his toes. It went through his cock in waves and bursts, tension being let out of him with each thick, ropy spurt of cum that left him, coating his stomach and surely getting on Dean's shirt. His brother kept going, growling through it, and then he was pressing himself up against him. The sensation of Dean finishing in him was an odd one. It nearly burned, and his over-sensitive body counted it as stimulation. His brother's cum was enough to make him start hurting.

He thankfully pulled out of him, and Sam closed his eyes, breathing hard. Dean caressed his face, and it took everything Sam had to not bite him. He was in a weary, confused, and pained daze.

 _What just happened to me?_

Oh god, _why_ had it happened? Why was any of it real? Why, why, why?

In an instant, Sam was sitting up, pushing Dean off of him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he shouted at him.

"Hey, it felt good, right?" he reasoned in a tense voice, tucking himself away.

Sam looked at him, his eyes wide with disbelief.

" _So_?"

"So _you_ wanted it. Don't tell me that wasn't the best orgasm of your life."

Already he could feel Dean's seed trickling out of him and he shifted uncomfortably, clenching his jaw.

"Doesn't. Matter," he got out. "I told you to stop. _Twice_."

Dean chuckled. "And then I got you to open yourself up to me like the little, submissive bitch I alway knew you were."

"I'm not…"

Sam cut himself off. It would be pointless arguing about whether he was submissive or dominant with Dean. He'd always been dominant. This time had been different because Dean hadn't given him a choice. His own body hadn't given him a choice.

Dean blurred in his vision, and he looked away, his upper lip trembling.

"Oh my god. Oh my god. You… You…"

"I what?"

"You hurt me!"

Sam was up and on his feet. God, it hurt, his legs weak and trembling. But he pushed Dean till he stumbled back and nearly slammed into the wall.

"Sure, 'cause everyone cums from pain," Dean replied sarcastically.

Always with the sarcasm. Did he not understand what he'd _done_?

"Admit it. You just can't handle that you liked getting fucked by your older brother."

"I didn't like it."

"De Nile isn't just a river in Egypt."

"Shut up!"

Sam found himself falling to the floor, his head in his shaking hands.

"I… I hate you. I hate you."

It tore at his chest to say. He loved Dean. Or he thought he had. And to think he'd betray him like this. It hurt more than he could handle.

"Sammy-"

He pointed at the door. "Get out!"

His hand was on his shoulder and he flinched, lifting his head to stare up at him with hatred. Only now he wasn't looking at Dean.

Lucifer smiled down at him with glee that turned his stomach. His heart rose up into his throat as ice cold fear ran through him, and then adrenaline spiked through him so sharply it hurt. The motel room melted away.

The Cage. He was in the Cage.

Oh god, they hadn't been nightmares.

"Guess it's a good thing I'm not your brother, huh?"

Sam was up and away from him in an instant, backing away till the wall of the Cage was against him. He felt like he was going to be sick to his stomach. His mouth was open as he tried gasping in air, but it was like he couldn't get enough.

The torture, it had all been real.

He'd never been with Dean.

"Y-you…"

"Go on, say it. I'm a genius."

"More like a deranged pervert."

He shrugged calmly. "Been called worse."

He stalked up to him and Sam gripped the interlocking bars of the Cage as he swallowed roughly. He was sweating again.

"Don't tell me you didn't at least have a little fun. I know I sure did."

"W-was that really you?"

He nodded, casually running a hand over his body.

"I just thought it'd be fun, you know? You've already been my toy for so long. Why not mix it up and make you think your brother raped you? Oh my Dad, the look on your face."

He started laughing and then he was pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

"Get off me," Sam said through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, Sammy, but you look simply breathtaking after you orgasm. And why should I stop touching you? You're mine."

"I'm not."

Lucifer lifted up his head, putting a finger to his lips. "Ah-ah-ah. Daddy's rules, not mine. You're my vessel. I own your ass. It's that simple."

"Fine," Sam began, "but don't _ever_ pretend to be my brother. You don't get to do that to me."

As soon as he said it, fear shot through him, sharp and tingling, and his chest nearly started hurting.

"No, you listen to me. You don't get to draw the line. I _will_ take you like that again." As he went on, his voice grew quieter, yet more emphatic and deathly serious, "And again. And again. And again. I can be Dean all I want. I can even be him right now."

Then Sam found himself looking at his brother once more, and his stomach twisted, his heart beating away like it never had before.

"Dean" kissed him as he raked his nails down his torso. He reached down to grab his much too sensitive cock, making Sam grunt and try pulling away from him. He began to hum "Hey Jude", and after the first refrain he said in a voice that sent terrified shivers down his spine, "Sammy, I'm just getting started."

And when Sam tried to look away, he couldn't, his head held in place by invisible restraints. With his memory of Dean now forever tainted, Sam found himself unable to cry. He couldn't function properly, couldn't do anything. "Dean" kept touching him, the once comforting tune of "Hey Jude" reaching his ears in his brother's low, familiar voice. What had once been home, a refuge in his mind amidst all the torture, was shattered and gone. Home was gone. Everything was gone. This was his existence now, pure and utter hell.

Dean's green eyes flashed when lightning struck through the void around them, and the hungry look in them, the sheer, primal desire to hurt him beyond human comprehension, was seared into Sam's brain forever.


End file.
